


As long as you'll have me

by Eowima



Series: FitzSimmons [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:46:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28862781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eowima/pseuds/Eowima
Summary: Fitz is sick. Jemma wants to take care of him.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Series: FitzSimmons [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2117637
Comments: 16
Kudos: 47





	As long as you'll have me

**Author's Note:**

> Posting this live from my couch as I watch over my son who's got the flu 😭 poor kiddo's gonna get better soon hopefully, but in the meantime, I got inspired 😂  
> Hope you enjoy this! :D
> 
> Sorry can't tag anything from my phone it's not working xD

**As long as you'll have me**

  
  


Three knocks.

He's so embedded in his comforter that the noise, while probably faint, is still somehow as loud to his ears as a gunshot. It tears through the fragile cloud of quietness and comfort he'd managed to wrap himself into, in such a frustrating and sudden way that a _sob_ actually rasps out of his mouth.

"Go away," he hears himself mumble, but it's obviously not loud enough for whoever's behind his door to hear. 

Said door opens with a terribly loud squeak -- a little part of his brain _knows_ it's not that loud -- and he closes his eyes hard, head painfully pounding as light from the hallway hits that little part of his face that's not protected by his comforter. There's a loud groan rumbling through his aching chest as he tries to hide under the pillow, but moving is not an option because everything _hurts_. His groan turns into a whine and probably another sob, but he's too feverish to even feel embarrassed about it.

He knows exactly who's the person responsible for almost blinding him with hallway light anyway, and he's passed that phase of being embarrassed around her a long time ago. 

Mostly.

As long as she doesn't do anything that's a little too affectionate and reminds him of how bad his crush on her used to be (or still _is_ , the jury is still out on that, honestly).

Why is he thinking about all this anyway, when everything _hurts_?

"Go away Simmons," he croaks, and he can hear her roll her eyes in annoyance in response.

( _Yes_ , that's a thing. He knows her so well he can hear the sound of her rolling her eyes at him. That's what happens when you're best friends with someone.)

"Ugh, Fitz! Don't be ridiculous and let me take care of you."

"Stop bloody shouting then!"

It's like the noise around him is splitting his head in half, and even though the tiny reasonable part of his brain is telling him that she's probably actually being very quiet, he cannot help his irritation at her at the moment. He's always had a bad temper, and while he tries to avoid snapping at Jemma -- and actually succeeds most of the time -- there have been a few occurrences where he's failed entirely to do that.

He always feels terrible when it happens. He never wants to be the reason behind the flash of hurt in her brown eyes. 

She doesn't sound mad or hurt when she answers him this time though. At least he doesn't think.

"Let me feel your head."

"Leave me alone," he retorts in another whine, though he knows perfectly well that she won't take no for an answer. 

There it is again, he can hear it, the eyeroll. 

Hands pat over his shoulder softly, reaching for the edge of his comforter. He weakly tries to hold onto it but she easily counters his attempt and brings down the blanket enough to uncover his face. 

He lets out a little whine, trying to hide in his pillow, and the reasonable part of his brain -- that sounds a lot like Simmons, yes -- tells him to stop being such a baby. Or maybe Jemma is actually telling him that for real, he's not sure. 

"Lemme sleep," he rasps, scrunching his nose in distaste. She shushes him and he would have rolled his eyes if moving was an option, but he's established that it's not before so he doesn't. 

Icy fingers glide lightly across his cheek, then prop his chin up and away from the pillow, and he groans again, pain flaring in his right temple. But then she's setting her cold palm over his forehead, and he gasps at the touch.

"Sorry," she whispers, removing her hand, and he's very embarrassed by the little whimper he lets out at the loss of contact.

"No," he mutters, eyes fluttering but not quite opening yet, "feels nice."

"Oh." 

There's a couple of seconds where nothing happens, and it leaves him a little confused as to why, but then cold fingers skate across his cheek, then his temple, back on his forehead, and it honestly feels heavenly.

He thinks he actually moans a little, but he's not sure. Her fingers and palm are working wonders against his pounding headache, and when the mattress under him dips a little and her other hand joins the first one, he cannot help his tiny grin.

She must have noticed it because when she talks again, he can hear her soft smile in her voice. 

"You're very hot."

The grumpy Scot part of himself wants to shout 'no shit Sherlock' or something to that effect, but since he's established earlier that moving and noises were prohibited, he chooses to chuckle instead.

"Too hard to keep your hands off me, yeah?" he hears himself teasing, and her breathy laugh is like music to his overly sensitive ears. 

Her fingers lightly follow the side of his jaw, then skim down his neck, and he feels a little shiver run up his spine, although he's not quite sure why. She moves her thumbs up again and starts massaging his forehead, fingers dipping in his curls above his ears, and this time he's sure he lets out a contented moan. His cheeks feel a little warm, but that's probably just the fever, right?

"You need to stay hydrated," she tells him after a while, continuing her ministrations, and he pouts a little.

"I liked the 'you're hot' comment better."

"Of course you did," she sighs, but the amusement is still obvious in her voice, and he smiles to himself for it. He loves to make her laugh. That's like, his favorite thing in the world, tied with monkeys and science. "I'm gonna put a glass of water on your bedside table okay?"

"Don't go…"

Her little laugh at that is somehow triumphant, he thinks. "Whatever happened to 'go away' and 'leave me alone Simmons?'" she teases, running her fingers along his cheeks one last time before poking his nose lightly, and he scoffs. 

"I take it back, you're mean, go away."

She laughs again, standing up, and his eyes flutter open just a little to follow her movements. She's left all the lights out, which he is very grateful for, and when she gets to the little sink next to his microwave, she turns it on very slowly, and he knows she's trying to be as quiet as possible. 

Jemma Simmons is an angel, and he doesn't know what he's done to deserve the chance to have her in his life. 

She sets the glass of water on his bedside table like promised, then catches his eye and smiles softly. "Hi," she whispers, and he chuckles then makes a face, because his head still hurts very much. 

"Hi," he rasps a little, and she scrunches her nose in amusement. "You're like an angel."

Wait, did he say that out loud? 

From the look of amusement and surprise on her face, he thinks he did. Oops.

"And you're a little delirious," she teases, and he pouts yet again. He doesn't know why he's pouting so much. Maybe an undiscovered side effect of the aspirin he took earlier.

"Am not," he mumbles, and she chuckles again. He likes it. "I like when you laugh."

Oops, he's on a roll then.

"You're too sweet."

"Am not," he says again, frowning. Why isn't she taking him seriously when he's never meant anything more than he means this in his life? 

"You should sleep, Fitz," she tells him quietly before he can embarrass himself more. "I don't think I can do much more, you just need to rest."

He's about to retort that that was exactly what he'd been doing before she so rudely interrupted him -- he's back to his grumpy self apparently -- but then she does something unexpected.

She kisses him on the forehead.

It's light, and soft, and her lips seem almost cold against his burning skin.

He blinks a few times in surprise when she moves back and smiles at him. Then his scientific mind kicks in.

"You're gonna get sick too," he whispers, and surprisingly her smile grows bigger.

"I promise I won't."

"But--"

"But if I do, then you'll take care of me, yeah?" she cuts him with a soft smile before he can argue, and his cheeks warm up in a way that's definitely not linked to his current fever.

He tries to find his words but realizes that he can't and just nods instead, pouring everything he wants to tell her in his eyes as they meet hers. 

_I'll take care of you as long as you'll have me._

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are deeply appreciated ❤️


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